If We Don't Kill Each Other, We Are Immortal?
by fireskullkills
Summary: Due to one of the possible interpretations of the prophesy, Harry and Voldy are immortal as long as they don't kill each other. Crack-fic. M for violence, maybe lemons later.
1. Chapter 1

-"I'm dead?" - A young man asked.

-"Yes, Harry Potter, you are dead!" - a visibly agitated hooded figure with a scythe answered. - "You have asked this god damn question ten times already!"

-"I'm… dead?"

A hooded figure fell to its knees and howled in frustration.

-"YES! YES! YOU ARE DEAD!"

-"Soo… am I dead?" - The young man tilted his head.

The kneeling figure developed a visible tick. It drilled the young man with a hateful gaze before breaking down and exhaling.

-"You know what… No. You are not dead. I'll send you back to earth."

-"Ah! Thank you!" - the young man, apparently named Harry Potter, answered. -"I knew that I could not be dead!"

The hooded figure looked as if it was about to cry.

/IFWDKEOWAI/

-"What do you mean you won't send me back to the time which you abducted me from?"

-"I'm too lazy to fast forward the cassette of life, and right now it's stuck right when you are around 8 years old."

Harry Potter deeply resonated with the figures sentiment, and decided not to interfere with its laziness.

-"Oh, yea, I forgot to mention. Do you still remember the prophecy around you and the other schmuck that I brought into the world?" - Death questioned.

-"If you don't kill each other you are immortal?"

The hooded figure blanched.

-"No! I mean… Shit, I hadn't thought of that…"

/IFWDKEOWAI/

Harry woke up. His first instinct, before even opening his eyes, was to immediately hop of the bed and prepare for any chance encounter. However, as soon as he made the initial jump to get off the bed, he heard a loud *bang!* and felt a sharp pain in his forehead. He prepared to jump again, this time in a different direction in order to evade whatever attacker that had managed to blindside him like that. This jump was met with a similar *bang!* and similar forehead pain.

This time, Harry had lost all his fighting spirit, and opened his eyes to accept his defeat from an overwhelmingly powerful opponent. However, there was no one there. He lay in a very small cupboard that was making him feel slightly claustrophobic. Glad that there was no attacker, he attempted to stand up fully, smashed his head into the ceiling, and was greeted by another *bang!* and another round of pain.

Harry managed to get out of the cupboard, incredibly frustrated and irritated at everything but his own inadequacy.

By now, he realized when he was - in his eighth year alive. This left him with quite a few opportunities - opportunities that he would be glad to divulge in. Firstly, he would leave for Gringotts. Secondly, he would begin working on the fun stuff. Thirdly, profit. He didn't know what this profit would look like, but he knew that it would be magnificent. He thought about asking the Dursleys for a ride into the middle of London, but Vernon would probably just ignore him completely.

Harry simply walked out into the hall and kicked open the front door. The lock broke, and immediately as the door flew open, Harry had a fleeting thought. What if he didn't knock it open, and simply turned the handle? The boy shrugged and walked out onto the driveway. It was dark. How unlucky of him to have woken up in the middle of the night, when it is too dark and dangerous to go into the middle of London alone, and with him having no transport to get there. It is not as if, suddenly, a blue triple decker bus would barge through the neighborhood, and stop just for him.

Suddenly, a blue triple decker bus barged through the neighborhood, and stopped just for him.

-"Huh…" - Harry shrugged - "That solves that problem."

The doors to the bus opened, and the driver looked at him in mild curiosity.

-"Aren't you a little young to be calling the knight bus?" - Inquired the driver.

-"Why yes, yes I am"- Happily answered the boy.

-"Alright then," - Shrugged the man - "Hop in!"

/IFWDKEOWAI/

Harry jumped right out of the bus. He waved goodbye and began walking to the leaky cauldron. The pub was similar to what he had remembered - beat up, dirty and still relatively inviting. The inside was similarly appealing, with plenty of smelly old men to liven up the place.

-"Hey Tom!" - Harry yelled immediately after entering the bar.

The barkeep turned to face the boy.

-"Do I know you, kiddo?"

-"No."

-"..."

-"My parents forgot me outside of the barrier. Could you help me get in?"

The barkeep did a double take. -"They… _forgot_ you?"

-"Yes, that is what I said. Unfortunately, I do not have a wand, so I can not go after them, so could you open the barrier for me, please?"

Tom, one of the only non-essential people whose names Harry remembered, was silent. He eyed Harry with incredulity and slight suspicion. Upon finding nothing after a thorough non-verbal investigation, Tom sighed and wordlessly led him out into the backyard.

/IFWDKEOWAI/

The Diagon alley held a special place in his heart. This was the street that allowed him to be set free from the Dursleys, and he was infinitely grateful to it for that. Now, however, it was a place of mild, but slowly bubbling irritation. None of the shops, at least those that seemed interesting, were open.

The only thing that relatively made up for it was the fact that Gringotts was open 365 days a year,(On leap years it vanished out of existence, obviously) and was currently open for business, exactly what he came to the diagon Alley for.

The building was just as he remembered: marble with a hint of pretentiousness. This was the entrance to Gringotts, and it lead into a small entrance hall with another set of doors. Engraved on these silver doors are the words:

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

Yea, pretentiousness is a rather correct term.

Harry made his way inside, and shuffled directly to one of the goblin tellers. The goblin ignored him, and continued doing goblin things. Harry simply stood in front of him, staring at the creature. The goblin slightly lifted his eyebrow, and looked at the boy.

-"What do you want, child?"

-"I'd like to claim my inheritance."

The goblins eyebrow rose even higher.

-"Do you have any money to pay for the inheritance test?"

-"No."

The goblin smiled a feral smile.

-"I hope that you realize that if you have no money to pay for the test afterwards, you are going into debt. And a debt to Gringotts is a debt that could land you into slavery."

-"Oh yea, I'm aware."

The other eyebrow of the teller shot up, and the goblin stared at the nonchalant boy who just claimed that he would be alright with something that could potentially land him into slavery. He continued staring for a couple of moments before motioning Harry to follow him.

The duo shuffled along the numerous corridors. To be honest, Harry was not certain what his inheritance entailed - in his time, he was never able to claim it, as he simply put no thoughts towards it.

-"I will administer you an inheritance test to check on whether you have any inheritance to claim."

-"Hello, Griphook!"

The goblin narrowed his eyes.

-"Do I know you, child?"

-"No."

The goblin didn't comment on the situation further, handing Harry a big bowl and a dagger.

-"Now, I will need you to make a cut…" - The goblin just began speaking, but suddenly stopped, as Harry already had cut his arm and had his blood in the bowl. - "...on your finger."

He sighed before continuing his speech.

-"Just… Give the bowl some time. It should spit out your heritage and inheritances."

The bowl began shaking. The red blood swirled, twisting and turning into a myriad of colors. The colors clashed one with the other, recreating marvelous battlefields befitting the medieval combat of old. Suddenly, it all stopped. The blood came back to the original crimson red color, and became still like a mirror.

-"A Potter, huh? Harry Potter, to be precise?"

-"Yes."

-"I am the keeper of vaults for the Potter account. However, since it was temporarily closed, until you came along, I was given a job as an inheritance clerk."

-"Cool!" - Harry smiled. - "I came here to ask for a small favour: could Gringotts detain a spirit indefinitely? For a price, of course."

/IFWDKEOWAI/

The forests in Albania where beautiful. The trees stretched as far as the eye could see and the magic was nonexistent, meaning that there would be nobody who could find him out.

He didn't know what to do next, as he was rather weak. Quirrell promised to arrive into the forest in a couple of years, but in the meanwhile, the spirit of Lord Voldemort could do nothing but lie around all day in order to preserve energy. He received just enough magical energy through the ground to stay connected to the living world, but he wasn't able to move too much for the fear of getting too tired to do anything in the moment when it mattered. He was already regretting his decision to move so far away from civilization. Suddenly, Voldemort felt a magical presence. This presence was small, likely exuded by a child; a child who was not yet developed enough to go to school, meaning that a possession of him would be impossible. The presence kept walking in his direction. Voldemort flew up and hid in the branches of the tree. This was just in time, as a young boy dressed in camping clothing walked into the meadow. He had a backpack and a small unlidded jar with him. As the kid reached the meadow, he sat down right underneath the tree on which Voldemort hid, and decided to rest. The jar that the child was holding now sat unwatched right next to the resting kid. The spirit of a once powerful man had decided to sneak out of the forest by using the child's jar. He mustered the last of his strength to quietly disillusion himself before slipping into the open jar.

Immediately after Lord Voldemort, He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, the terror of great Britain, climbed into the little child's jar, the boy produced a lid and immediately shut the jar closed. Immediately Voldemort realized his mistake, and his eyes widened; however, it was too late. His energy was all lost on the disillusion charm and the extra movements that he made to get into the trap, so as a result, he couldn't even attempt to get out.

/IFWDKEOWAI/

-"I see you have captured a spirit. Would you mind telling me what spirit you have requested us to confine?"

-"Its Voldemort."

The goblin didn't even blink.

-"I will ask the question again. Whose spirit is it?"

-"Mine."

-"That is not what I meant..." - the goblin groaned. - "Just… give it to me, and I will shove it in a magic resistant vault."

Harry smiled. Life was good.

/IFWDKEOWAI/

His newfound immortality deserved a test. He couldn't risk directly killing himself, as the horcrux inside his head could be considered by magic as Voldemort murdering him; however, as long as Harry didn't directly 'Avada Kedavra' himself, he should not be able to die. So, he came up with a solution.

He stood on the top of Gringotts bank, his hair getting more and more messed up from the wind. He steeped himself, and jumped. The fall was longer than he anticipated. The ground seemingly approached him at a snail's pace.

*Bang* Harry splattered all over the ground. His head was all around the sidewalk, with his brains casually lying around the shards of this skull. His jaw cracked in two, and some of his teeth even managed to lodge themselves deep into his jaw. His stomach ripped, and his intestines were splattered all over the sidewalk.

Eventually, the shapeless mass began to move. The mass began regenerating, drawing from the mass's magical core. Soon the mass became a recognizable silhouette. The silhouette grinned.

-"Goodie!"


	2. Chapter 2

Harry wanted a pet. Of course, Fleur Delacour would be the most exciting contender for this position; however, he was doubtful that Dumbledore would appreciate that. He needed something more ordinary.

Wouldn't keeping Fleur Delacour as a pet be acceptable by the magical laws, given the fact that she is a magical creature? Harry would certainly explore that side of the issue at one point.

Anyways, the Diagon Alley was, as he expected, jam packed with people. Politicians, students, nutjobs, normal people - they were all there getting ready for the start of a new school year.

The resident pet shop was, similarly to the rest of the alley, full of people. It was full of first years begging their parents for owls; upperclassmen bargaining with their parents for a new pet, because their last toad died in an aphrodisiac mishap; and plenty of shady individuals hanging around goats.

Harry himself was not certain what he wanted out of this visit. An owl? A toad? A rat? A couple owls caught his eye, but he didnt want an owl: it was rather boring, and, being the hipster that he was, he couldn't settle for anything boring. He found a half rotten, but still alive tushkano; however, that too wasn't something he was interested in. Then… he heard it. The sound was almost drowned out by the crowd, but was certain that he heard it. It was nothing short of beautiful.

-" _FuckoffyousonofabitchIjustwanttoeatinpeaceandyoucomehere…_ "

It was a green-red parrot. A parrot that was cursing far worse than anything he had ever heard in his life. Harry immediately knew that he wanted it.

-"How much for this fine specimen? He looks adorable."

-" _Whatthefuckdidyoujustfuckingsayaboutme,youlittlebitch?I'llhaveyouknowIgraduatedtopofmyclassinthe..."_

 ***The world***

Daphne Greengrass was content with her life. Her existence was relatively normal, and she was happy studying her magics at home before leaving for Hogwarts. She believed that she was one of the most advanced children of her age group. However, this thing in front of her was… something… else. In front of her sat a kid. He sat in a chair that he had just conjured and set afloat in the air.

-"Hello Daphne!" - The mysterious boy energetically yelled out.

-"Who are you? How did you get past the wards?"

The young boy shrugged. - "Magic?"

The girl stared back at him.

-"Why are you even here?"

-"I want to be friends!" - The enthusiastic boy responded.

-"Friends?"

-"Good girl. Now you are getting it."

-"Don't call me that."

-"Why not?"

The girl stared at the self-assured young man in incredulity, before coming to her senses.

-"MOTHER! FATHER! THERE IS AN INTRUDER IN OUR HOUSE!"

Suddenly, on the opposite sides of the house something crashed, and two different series of rapid footsteps speed towards our duo.

Both sides of the double doors flew open in unison, exposing two rather determined parents. Immediately upon seeing him, Daphne's dad grinded to a halt, simply stared at the small child who broke into their home. Daphne's mom was a lot more rash, and immediately responded as calmly as possible. With an Avada Kedavra, obviously. One could not be certain if Harry didn't move out of the way of the spell out of surprise or out of laziness, but the spell hit him right between his eyes.

Harry was knocked off his makeshift chair and sailed through the room, smashing into an antique vase. As soon as the spell hit, the woman ran to Daphne and began fussing over her.

-"There you go, my little munchkin! He didn't hurt you, did he?"

-"Stop calling me that, Mother."

The woman's fuss was suddenly rudely interrupted by coughing coming from the shards of the vase.

-"Fuck… I'm going to have to get used to that…"

The three nobles in the room all stared at the - still alive and kicking - Harry Potter.

There was a sharp intake of breath from the woman, and Daphne shielded her ears.

-"The power! To brush off a killing curse as if nothing happened! You must be Harry Potter!" - She sounded half impressed, half maniacal. - "I have decided. You are getting married to Daphne. Would you sign a contract now?"

At this moment, Daphne's father came to his senses, and immediately dragged the woman into the corridor to explain why that was a terrible idea, leaving Harry and Daphne alone together.

-"Married?"

-"Shut up, Potter."

 ***we live***

Harry sat at the Greengrass dining table, invited by the overly obsessed Lady Greengrass herself. Lord Greengrass still kept throwing suspicious glances at the boy, and Daphne sat there in complete indifference, most likely fueled by utter shock.

-"When are you going to marry my daughter?" - Lady Greengrass asked with a concerning twinkle in her eye.

-"Honey! We talked about this. No contracts yet." - Lord Greengrass was quick to shut down her obsessive behaviour.

-"Awww…"

 ***in. It's***

The platform 39/4(check it as an improper fraction) was, as always, a crowded place (are the large numbers of people gonna be a trend?). Harry made his way past a mop of orange hair. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. It felt like the Weasley family quite literally invented a cloning machine and shoved their eldest son into it.

Harry didn't care much for the Weasley family; rather, he wanted to find Daphne.

-"Hey Daphne!"

The girl that he was obviously referring to said nothing, and remained stone faced. Her mother, however, was the opposite. She went wide eyed and tackled the boy with a hug.

-"MY FAVOURITE FUTURE SON IN LAW!"

Some people next to them looked on in shock, And the father was quick to pry the woman off of him.

 ***So… Wondrous.***

-"Let's go find a spot on the train?"

She followed him sans opposition.

-"Good girl."

-"Don't call me that."

 ***Mysterious. Even***

The two found an empty compartment in the middle of train. However, their solitude didn't last long. One of the Weasleys, Ron, to be exact, peaked through the slightly ajar door.

-"Can I join you? Everywhere else is full…"

-"Sure."

-"No."

Ron's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the immediate, but conflicting responses. He proceeded to ignore Daphne's cynical and tired rejection, and carefully sat down in the compartment.

-"I heard that Harry Potter was on board the train today…" - Ron left the sentence unfinished, perhaps awaiting some sort of confirmation or directions directly to the child of the prophecy himself.

Harry, however, decided to outright ignore him, and turned to Daphne.

-"Have you learned any magic before Hogwarts?"

-"Yes."

-"Good girl."

Daphne didn't outwardly react, and simply sat there with a stoic expression.

The conversation died down afterwards. Ron attempted to revive it with his constant complaining and whining. Harry largely didn't mind it, but Daphne's gaze in his direction drew colder and harsher by each minute. She was about to shove her wand into his arse, when the compartment door unceremoniously opened, and a blond boy barged in.

-"Is it true?" he asked. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

-"Nah, I don't think so." - Our scarred boy replied.

The blond boy immediately lost any interest and was about to leave. Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigget. The boy looked at him.

-"No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." He turned back to Harry. "I don't recognize you, so you must be a mudblood. Disgusting."

He was so busy insulting Harry and the red haired mop that he completely ignored Daphne and walked out. Ron became really red, very much like his hair.

 ***Magical. No...***

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry ordered quite the assortment of candy. There were chocolate frogs, all flavour beans and blood pops. He popped a bean into his mouth and gained a rather thoughtful expression.

-"Human flesh…"

-"That's disgusting!" - Ron immediately recoiled. - "I am surprised they even have that flavour… Wait. How do YOU know what that tastes like?!"

Harry shrugged and popped a blood pop into his mouth. He took a second one and poked it into Daphne's face. She stared at it before opening her mouth and allowing the candy to go inside.

-"Ahhh… Good girl! At least you won't die of hunger." - Harry exclaimed. He stretched before once again beginning to speak. -"Well… I have to go out for a second. Behave, you two."

-"Hey… umm… can you hand me that chocolate frog?"

The girl sighed and threw the frog at him.

Ron nervously and cautiously whispered -"Good… girl?"

The train, for the remainder of the journey, echoed screams of unbearable pain and agony.

 ***No, no***

The castle was, as always, impressive. It stood majestically over the merpeople infested lake and cast its gargantuan shadow on anything in the vicinity. It was as surreal as he remembered it; almost bringing a tear to his eye. However, it didn't. Mostly because Ron was continuously blabbering about Gryffindor. Harry's eye twitched, and Ron "accidentally" slipped into the water. Unfortunately for Ron, but fortunately for everyone else, the boats were charmed to go forward and not to stop. In addition, they were also the second to last boat, with the last one housing Malfoy and his male harem.

As Ron was left to his own devices in the middle of the lake, the boats glided into the castle.

 ***no… Not***

-"Harry Potter!"

A wave of whispers broke out as Harry stepped forward from the line of first years. He looked back and noticed the incredulous and pissed off faces of Ron and Draco - pissed at him for lying to them. The boy chuckled and his vision went dark - the hat covered his whole head.

 _-"Greetings, time traveler."_

-"Hello, Hat!"

 _-"Not surprised, huh?"_

-"Nope. Can I have you?"

 _-"Have… What?"_

-"Like… Steal you?"

 _-"No. Buzz off. Gryffindor for you."_


	3. Chapter 3

**/AN/** If yall can figure out what the transition words make up before it becomes too obvious, you can go buy yourself a cookie. (つ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)つ

First day at Hogwarts, huh? Daphne stretched her arms and yawned. She was rather tired, but was looking forward to the first day here. She didn't know what to expect from the school. However, she had a feeling that, soon, the whole place would be turned on its head by a small boy who surprised her with his prowess during the summer. It was a shame he went into Gryffindor - she would have appreciated being with him a little more. Alas, that was not to be. At least she would see him at the joint lessons between the snakes and the lions. She stretched and came down into the common room.

-"Hi Daphne!"

-"Good morning…" - she absent mindedly replied, before recognizing the voice. - "How the hell did you get in here?"

-"The world's most humble Harry Potter does not reveal his secrets!" - He pumped his fist in the air, and appeared most proud. - "Wanna head to Charms together?"

She smiled.

-"Yes, that would be most pleasant."

The two left the Slytherin common room under the incredulous gaze of all the early birds who woke up early.

-"How the fuck did Potter get here?"

-" _Suckmynonexistentdickyoufuckingbrainlet…"_ \- The cry of an indignant parrot echoed throughout the common room.

The Charms classroom was very much similar to the one that he remembered in his past time - with the lovely add-on of Flitwick falling off his tower of books as he got to Harry's name during the roll call. The first lesson was nothing special - just theory. Although the theory was rather boring, the students were involved enough to chuckle at the mention of a man who accidentally conjured a bull when trying to levitate something.

The Transfiguration was once again, the samey-same as the Charms class. The only classes that were at all different were DADA and Potions.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and, much like the lovable goblin, paused at Harry's name.

-"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity."

Draco Malfoy sniggered behind his hands. And immediately got slapped by a fish. Nobody knew where it came from, but Harry quickly put his wand away. Snape finished calling names and looked up at the class.

-"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but the class caught every word - like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort.

-"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Silence followed this little speech. The only thing that betrayed the quiet was the incestant slapping of the fish that thrashed on the Malfoy's desk, who was too squeamish to remove it himself.

Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

-"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

-"Death, but without commitment."  
-"What?"

-"Sleep?"

-"Uhhh…" - Snape shook his head - "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

-"In the stomach of Pansy?"

-"Hmmm…" - Shape glanced at the girl. - "Acceptable answer."

\- "Last question, Potter. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

-"The letters."

-"Fair enough." - He nodded. - "Now, who can tell me what are the dangers of mixing bleach and ammonia?"

Defence against the dark arts had an interesting, albeit expected twist - The professor didn't stutter.

-"I am feeling betrayed, as one of my good friends stood me up during the summer. So I hope that you will NOT make me more disappointed than I already am." - The professor wholeheartedly stated. - "As I used to be a Muggle studies professor, and know a whole lot about them, I will teach you to defend yourself against their weaponry."

-"Hah!" - Malfoy was quick to interject. - "As if muggles pose any threat to wiza…"

He immediately shut up as a small carp flew across the room and bitch-slapped him.

-"Now, Mr. Malfoy, you are entitled to your opinion," - spoke Quirrell - "However, please be aware that you are wrong."

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a Lee-Enfield. How it fit into his pocket was a mystery: Harry suspected dynamic space expansions based on non-static fibers, but that was just a guess.

Professor Quirrell quickly conjured a vase on the other side of the classroom, aimed... He took his time lining up a perfect shot. There it was, the target: right in between the trigger and the handle… he carefully reached for the trigger… And... Shot Ron in the foot. The class was silent for the first couple of seconds; even Ron was initially too shocked to scream. The thing that broke the silence was a casual statement from the professor: "Ahh… so that's where the bullets come from…"

Next was pandemonium. If one asked me to describe the primordial chaos before the Greek Gods were born, I would show them a snapshot of this classroom. Half of the classroom was screaming; Ron was the loudest, drowning out everyone by at least 20 decibels; some prayed to cthulhu; Daphne sat unfazed, simply staring in front of her; Harry was rolling under the desks dying of laughter; the professor stood in the middle of the classroom and had the decency to look ashamed; And Harry's parrot was dropping F-bombs, seemingly feeling at home in the chaos. All in all, it was an entertaining class.

 ***That World.***

Fleur was incredibly annoyed. Who the hell let the damn gremlins, mistakenly named "first years" into the school? It was great before those little shits came in… Those snot-nosed brats always got in the way and always ogled her. So, naturally, when one of these little devils pulled on her leg to get her attention, she was just about ready to shove her whole leg up the little shits ass.

-"What in the name of the great Leader Napoleon do you need from me, brat?!"

-"The Duke of Wellington is better," - The little twat replied. - "I have a question, Fleur Delacour."

She was a little surprised at the use of her full name, but quickly regained her footing.

-"Spit it out, you midget."

-"Will you be my pet?"

 ***I meant***

-"Fleeeeuuuurrr!"

The girl in question widened her eyes in pure terror. She sped off from her clique of friends without saying a word. Her friends stared in disbelief at their sprinting friend and shook their heads at the unladylike behaviour. That is, until a small comet of a boy zoomed across their tight circle.

-"Pet! Come back!" - The comet yelled at the top of his lungs. - "You just need some strict discipline!"

-"It's not as if I will put you into a chastity belt, pet!" - He yelled. -"Unless, of course, you are into that… Why is your face so red?"

 ***this one.***

-"How the hell did you talk me into participating in this dog show?"

-"With some minor difficulties." - He smiled. - "Now be quiet, pet. This is a muggle dog show, and muggles tend to be surprised by talking dogs, no matter how strong the illusion that I placed on you is."

-"Eehh?"

-"No Eehhs. Now bark."

 ***** **The smartphone.** *****

-"And the winner is…" - The announcer drew out the pause, - "The Great Pyrenees Hound, nicknamed 'Fleur' by her owner!"

The audience cheered, as the dog became a crowd favourite in the short span of the competition. She was a rather fiery one, who, if one didn't know better, seemed almost sentient. Her owner seemed incredibly proud of her win, and accepted the prize of an intricate collar with a grateful and proud smile.

 ***Each system***

-"Hey midget! I don't know how you convinced me to participate in this contest, but don't get it get to your head. You are not my master…"

-"...yet." - He interjected.

She stared in incredulity.

-"You little shit!"

 **/AN/** A Fleur that swears like a sailor? Sign me up!


	4. Chapter 4

**/AN/** To the person who informed me that they are too drunk to write a proper review: I feel you.

 **/AN/** Tonks? Maybe~

As all of the fuss around the minor accident in the Defence Against The Dark Arts died down, a new source of unrest sprung up. Somebody, and I won't say who, but it was Harry, surfaced a rumor that the philosopher's stone was somewhere in the school. Although the headmaster made it almost painfully clear where it was, not many caught onto the hint about the third floor corridor; and those that had, had no intention of sharing that knowledge with others. All around the school, groups of like-minded individuals got together and began the search for the stone. During this time period more hidden passages were discovered than ever before. These snooping expeditions were at first regarded with patronizing smiles by the professors, or, at least, that was until one of these groups stumbled across a passionate moment between McGonagall and Flitwick.

During these skirmishes nobody paid any attention to the dates, and were all surprised when Halloween dropped on their heads.

You can't really fault them for not noticing the arrival of the holiday - they were all preoccupied by countless "victims" of the hunt for the philosopher's stone. Some almost drowned, attempting to swim all the way to the bottom of the lake; some fell out of the windows, attempting to parkour into new parts of the castle; some refused to say what happened to them when they encountered the Kraken: all in all, a hectic time.

In conclusion, Halloween was here.

Orange was everywhere. Pumpkins, orange colored curtains… somebody had the bright idea to stun the whole Weasley family and make them float above the students in the great hall, just to add to the orangeness of the castle.

Surprisingly enough, Snape was the first person to wake a fuss about it.

-"Headmaster!" - He hissed out. - "What the hell is this?"

-"It's food, my boy! We got pumpkin pie, pumpkin meat, pumpkin pumpkins..." - The headmaster jovial responded. - "I can't believe you have to ask me this."

-"No, I mean the whole knocked out Weasley family floating above our damned heads!"

-"Ah, the Weasleys!" - He smiled. - "Don't they truly liven up the place?"

-"Is that even legal, headmaster?"

Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his mouth and shrugged. Suddenly, the plate of lemon drops shook, and revealed Harry's head on the plate.

-"Say, headmaster, aren't Halloween colors orange AND black?"

-"Mhmm. Mmhm mhmm mm hmmmm!"

Five minutes later, the Orange of the Weasleys gained a Black Snape streak.

 ***and program***

Suddenly, the doors of the Great Hall flung open. Into the Hall came Quirrell. He wasn't running; he simply walked into the Great Hall, and stopped. He stood there, saying nothing, hung his head, and then whispered:

-"I accidentally led a troll into the castle…"

-"Well, we wouldn't want any unnecessary chaos, now would we?" - The headmaster replied. - "We need an ambassador who can speak to the troll."

-"I got this, Mr Dumbledore!" - Harry chimed in. - "I know just the man for the job."

-"Well, isn't that convenient?" - Dumbledore smiled. - "Continue the feast as normal, my children."

Harry needed a true professional. Somebody who was a linguistics expert - and he had just the man.

Harry stretched and summoned Ron from the ceiling, tying a rope around his hand; with this floating orange-haired balloon he walked out of the Great Hall.

He wasted no time heading into the girls bathroom.

That was the his best bet, as in this time Hermione also managed to get stuck in the bathroom; however, this time it was from a nervous breakdown that she received after yelling at the amateur treasure hunters.

 ***app is***

The first signs of the troll appeared in a couple minutes - he heard it - a low shuffling of gigantic feet. Then, as he rounded the corner, he saw the door of the bathroom fly off the hinges and smash into the head of the balloon that was Ron. If there were any brains, that would have been a concussion, but all that it did was wake him up. Immediately as the door did so, Harry shoved the two of them into the bathroom, and faced the giant relative of Millicent Bulstrode. The Troll looked giant relative to the stalls, and towered over the two young lads. Harry stood there, looking over his nails, seemingly unfazed over the giant Troll looking over them, and Ron produced a groggy, still sleepy, but glorious: "Eeeggghh?"

The Troll stopped in its tracks and looked Ron over, before grunting in a very questioning manner.

-"Huh?" - Ron responded almost immediately.

The troll gained a very interested look in his eyes, before it changed onto something completely different. This look meant either the worst thing to happen to Ron, or, if he was into it, the best one. The Troll grabbed Ron, cradled him, and sped off to the exit of the castle.

Harry followed with his gaze, before looking at a mop of hair shaking under a faucet.

-"You can come out, Hermione!"

The ball of hair moved a tiny bit before a head poked out of it.

-"Is… is the troll gone?"

-"Can you imagine what would have happened if I wasn't as perfect as I am, Hermione?" - Harry interjected. - "You could have died and I could have lost my arm, forcing me into the hospital, unable to repair it, and then the author would be receiving shit for writing his story the way that he wants!"

-"Aa...author?" - She interrupted - "What author?"

-"Never mind, kitten."

-"K.. kitten?"- She stared at him.

-"Second year, The Potion."

-"What?"

-"Never mind, kitten."

 **/AN/** Lmao; if my chapters continue the trend of getting shorter and shorter, soon my updates will consist of one word. Anywho, sorry for the small chapter, I will update soon.

 **/AN/** Put all the reviews is the bag (ง ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)ง


	5. Chapter 5

/AN/ What drugs am I on? All of them. Except Coke. I have Pepsi tho, and it works just as well.

/AN/ To that one person who is trying to debunk the logic of my crackfic - are you okay, bud?

Oliver Wood was getting rather desperate. No Gryffindors wanted to take place of the seeker and humiliate themselves by continuing the seven year losing streak. To be honest, Wood understood their fears; however, this didn't change the fact that he was one person short a full team.

-"Hey Wood!" - a yell startled him out of his daze. - "I want to be on your team!"

Wood turned around, and searched for the origin of the voice, but no matter how hard he looked around, he couldn't find the source of the sound.

-"Downhereyoufuckingbaguette!"

Oliver slowly looked down, and beheld an interesting sight: in front of him stood a little boy with a massive parrot on his shoulder. The parrot was around half the size of the boy who looked like his knees were about to buckle. However, they didn't. Instead, the boy simply stood there, overflowing with an unknown emotion.

-"Well…" - Oliver hesitantly responded, -"if McGonagall approves, I can probably give you the position of a seeker…"

-"I wanna be a beater."

-"What?"

-"I wanna be a beater."

-"Sorry kiddo, but I don't have the space for another beater. All we need is a seeker."

-"Well, thank you for letting me be the beater." - Harry smiled. - "I appreciate it."

-"What? No!"

*it's own*

-"Is this even allowed?"

-"You tell me, Mr. Wood!" - McGonagall fired back. - "You are the one with a quidditch rulebook that is magically connected to the official one!"

-"Oh, yeah…" - He sheepishly scratched the back of his head. - "Here… Accio, Quidditch rulebook!"

Suddenly, above the trio, something crashed. Then again. Then again. Then, a heavy-looking book crashed through the ceiling of their room.

-"Oops..."

-"Oliver Wood!"

-"Definitely oops."

*little planet*

-"Well…" - Oliver mused. - "I remember the rules stating that the team composition was rock solid… However, now there is… an exception?"

The older boy stared at the book in disbelief - the exception was a simple scribble in a typed book. This messy handwritten scribble read: 'Harry Potter can be a third beater if he wants.' Oliver stood there in a right stupor, staring into the scribbles, the scribbles that mocked him.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, the wooden boi came to his senses.

-"If it is written in the official book, then, I suppose, it must be true…" - He continued with heavy hesitation. - "Tell me, Harry - do you know how this book got this writing in it?"

-"Maybe."

-"Do you mind telling me how it happened?"

-"Yes, actually, I do mind."

*of perfect.*

-"Welcome, welcome, ladies, gentlemen, and Pansy to the first quidditch game of the year!" - The commentator was rather excited for this match. - " Now, usually we don't let goats in to watch Quidditch, but for you, Pansy we have made an exception…"

He looked over his shoulder at Professor McGonagall, and she nodded.

-"Today is GRYFFINDOR versus slytherin!" - The Gryffindor commentator yelled. - " As you might not be aware, Gryffindor is missing their seeker, and instead have a beater. Although this allows them to set up for more destructive plays, they are NOT, and I repeat, NOT able to catch the snitch! How they are planning to win is a mystery, but a mystery I am curious to find an answer to!"

*Technology. All*

-"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," Professor Hooch said, once they were all gathered around her. Harry noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, a sixth year. Harry thought Flint looked as if he had some troll blood in him.

-"And they are off! Marcus Flint wins the play off! He passes to Adrian Pucey and… Ouch, that looked like it hurt! Pucey just ate a powerful bludger from one of the twins! Feorge, I think. Or Gred. I'm not certain, but holy guacamole did that look painful! Angelina picked the quaffle up and she is racing towards the goal post - pass to Angelica aaaannndddd..." - The commentator choked on his own spit. - " SCORE! 10 - 0! The Slytherin goalkeeper was faced with a dilemma - dodge the bludger or save the goal! What a nice combo by the beaters and the chasers!"

*providing services*

-"Wow! The Slytherin chaser really got a good taste of Harry's ball…" - The commentator was suddenly interrupted by a smack to the head from an indignant looking McGonagall. - " I meant his bludger… Yes, his bludger!"

*so necessary*

The commentator continued to rave throughout the entirety of the game, appearing rather sympathetic to the beat down that Slytherin received.

-"It's 300 to 20! Although Gryffindor is on the winning pace, they can't close the game by catching the snitch! Ooh? What's this? Harry Potter just approached the referee? She looks incredibly surprised! What could this be?

-"You want me to do WHAT?" - The resident referee, Professor Hooch, fiercely whispered.

-"Check the arse of the slytherin seeker."

She sighed, braced herself, and blew her whistle. The game immediately ground to a halt. Well, everything but the bludgers. One of them flew out in the direction of the forbidden forest, and the other, with a satisfying crunch, landed right onto Flint's nose.

-"Higgs, come here!"

The boy flew in with a grimace.

-"What did Potter tell you, Professor Hooch?"

-"Aahhh… well…" - she hesitated. - "I don't know how to say it. Alright, here it goes. Does your behind feel weird?"

-"Wha..?" - He was taken aback. - "Well, now that you mention in, it did feel uncomfortable for the last ten minutes…"

Professor Hooch went pale.

*so crucial*

The whole of next week the school was silent about the match. Gryffindor won, but instead of celebrating their deserved victory, they were incredibly pensive about it. They ended up winning 300 to 170, which was rather surprising, considering the fact that the Slytherin seeker was the one who actually "caught" the snitch. Only after a week, when the seeker was released from the hospital wing, did the rumors begin. Nobody except Hooch and Harry, and, of course, the seeker knew what happened, but none of them were telling. The rumor mill noted both the sudden end of the game, and the funny walk of the seeker and drew their own conclusions.

/AN/ Reviews and suggestions are welcome!


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